


Chasing Things That We Should Run From

by lesbianophelia



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Hijacked!Katniss - Freeform, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-06 18:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1867464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianophelia/pseuds/lesbianophelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He fools himself into thinking it will help. He recites the lines they give him as enthusiastically as he can. Suggests edits, comes up with new lines entirely. He even wears the ridiculous costume they put together for him. Armor on his chest and sleeves, ready for battle. As if they’d ever let him see it. The worst part is the white accents. They made him a Mockingjay. Him. As if there’s any version of the universe where he’s the one that’s supposed to be here." </p><p>Mockingjay AU. Peeta is the one rescued from the arena.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In a Place Where We Don't Have a Prayer.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Tether" by CHVRCHES. You really should listen to that song during/before/after you read this because it has a lot to do with the story. 
> 
> Thanks to Gentemama for beta-ing.

Peeta has no shortage of bad habits. But, if what his mother has to say is any indication, the worst one is the way he refuses to speak when he’s upset. She calls him petulant, but he knows that things will only be worse if he says anything, so he lifts his chin and lets her say whatever she wants to.   
  
It’s worse as he gets older. He clams up because the only other alternative is to lose his temper and he hates everything about what his mother is, so he refuses to go down that path.   
His mother gets angry, too. Because she _knows that he talks more than this_ when he’s _with his little friends._  
  
And it’s not even that she’s wrong. It’s just that he can’t bring himself to say anything.   


* * *

  
  
He fools himself into thinking it will help. He recites the lines they give him as enthusiastically as he can. Suggests edits, comes up with new lines entirely. He even wears the ridiculous costume they put together for him. Armor on his chest and sleeves, ready for battle. As if they’d ever let him see it. The worst part is the white accents. They made him a Mockingjay. _Him_. As if there’s any version of the universe where he’s the one that’s supposed to be here.   
  
And somewhere, in the Capitol, they take it out on her. Either his words, or the warning she managed to give about the bombing. Probably both. He can tell, judging by the way she stands beside President Snow in yet another video. He can see the difference between this version of Katniss and the one from the first video. The way her cheekshave hollowed out again. The way her wrist bones strainagainst her skin. There’s something different in her eyes, too. Something less. And when she begins to speak, he feels sick. Even if he could believe that Katniss would actually insinuate that things in the country could only be achieved with a specific balance, there’s something off about the way she speaks, too. Something too polished. Something in the way that her eyes widen when she trails off, like she’s concerned. Like she’s afraid of something.   
  
They tell him to film a response first thing in the morning. They have his face caked in makeup before he’s even sure what is that they want.   
  
He’s supposed to address her. Supposed to beg her to see reason. And he’d love to, but not with an audience, and especially not one that includes the President. He doesn’t trust his voice. Doesn’t think he would risk it even for a good line. Because no line in the world could possibly be worth making things worse for Katniss.   
  
“I’m . . . I can’t,” he finally announces. “I won’t.”   
  
“Eloquent,” Haymitch grumbles, and Peeta pulls the earpiece out, thoroughly pissed. He can hear Haymitch talking, faintly, but rolls the little device between his thumb and forefinger. It’s all he lets himself focus on, right now, so that he can keep it together at least for a little longer.   
  
“We made a deal. Coin, she told me that we’d get her back if I did this, and they haven’t even tried.”   
  
The woman behind the camera sighs.   


* * *

  
  
“You don’t understand the resources a trip like this would take. The hovercrafts are in high demand right now, and how many people do you think are going to volunteer to walk to their death in the hopes that they can get your girlfriend out? Honestly, I –”   
  
“I don’t care,” he interrupts. “I’ll go. Just send me.”   
  
She laughs at him. “You know, I told them you’d make a more sympathetic figurehead.”   
  
He can deal with being reduced to nothing more than what they can get fromhim. It’s no different from the Capitol. Except that he had Katniss then, at least. “We made a deal.”   
  
“And the deal still stands, but if you’re going to act like a petulant child –”   
  
“I don’t care!” he says again, louder this time. The woman’s eyebrows raise, like she didn’t expect that from him. Good. Maybe she’ll take him seriously now. “I don’t. You get me Katniss or I’m finished. No more propos. No appearances, no fighting. Nothing.”   
  
“Listen,” Coin begins, and he knows this has about as good a chance of hurting them as it does helping them, but he stands firm.   
  
“Unless you’re telling me that she’ll be here by the end of the day tomorrow, with all due respect, I don’t want to hear it.”   
  


* * *

  
  
He makes good on his threat. Just locks eyes with the woman behind the camera and shakes his head.

A mission to get her is arranged that night.   
  


* * *

  
  
Gale fucking Hawthorne is allowed to go and he isn’t. They volunteered at the same time, even though Peeta is nearly certain his hand was up a fraction of a second before Gale’s. But since Gale Hawthorne isn’t the voice of the rebellion, he’s allowed to go, and Peeta is forced to stay in Thirteen. Filming propos. Talking about Katniss.   
  
Luckily, this is something that’s always been a strength of his. And, secure in the knowledge that she’ll be here with him, safe, when the propos air, he talks about her for hours. Listing all the classes that he had with her. How afraid he always was to talk to her. He talks about the bread, too, about their first real interaction before the day of the Reaping. How he wanted to do _more_. How he wanted to talk to her about it. To make sure she was okay.   
  
He talks about her trading with his father. About stealing glances at her while his father got the bread. He talks about her singing on the first day of school. About two braids and a red plaid dress. They end up stopping him. He feels useless, just sitting in the room with Finnick, tying knots and trying not to think too hard.   


* * *

  
Haymitch doesn’t come to get him until after midnight. Finnick and Annie crash into each other right there in the hallway, kissing and talking quietly and resting their foreheads against each other. He wonders what it’s going to be like when he sees Katniss again. Not exactly like that, he’s sure. While Katniss isn’t unaffectionate, it’s never dramatic when she is. Except maybe on the beach. That last real kiss – other than the one before they split up.   
  
Will she want to kiss him right away? With everything she’s been through, he wouldn’t fault her for just wanting to talk. To make sure that she’s really safe. _She’s safe!_ He pushes through the door and is frozen in the doorway, watching as a trio of doctors take her vitals, shine lights in her eyes. It takes her a moment to see him, and when she does she rises to her feet unsteadily and sweeps them all out of the way. He heads for her with long strides, and her hands go out. To touch his face, maybe. Or his hair. His lips are just forming her name when her fingers lock around his throat.


	2. Chapter 2

They won’t let Prim see her. No one from District Twelve – or the Capitol, for that matter – is allowed to see her, least of all Peeta, at least until the unusually high amount of tracker jacker venom works its way out of her system.  
  
So, it’s strangers that are nursing her. While Peeta records interviews and visits with Prim and – most of all – watches her progress through a glass window that she must not know is there until the team of doctors force him to leave.  
  
It takes some time, but finally, Haymitch is allowed in the room with her. She’s confined to the bed, wrists locked in place beside her. She doesn’t seem there enough to mind the restraints, exactly, though.  
  
“Rough day?” Haymitch asks, dropping into the seat beside the bed. There’s enough of her in there to glare at him, but somehow that’s not very reassuring.  
  
“Why are you here?” she asks. “Gonna tell me how to love my fiancé?”  
  
  
Prim’s hand rests on top of Peeta’s. They know, thanks to Beetee, at least a little bit about the hijacking, but that doesn’t exactly make this any easier on any of them.

* * *

  
 _“You were stung in your first Hunger Games, so unlike most of us, you have firsthand knowledge of the effects of the venom,” Beetee says._  
  
 _Terror. Hallucinations. Nightmarish visions. Because the venom targets the part of the brain that houses fear._  
  
 _I’m sure you remember how frightening it was. Did you also suffer mental confusion in the aftermath?” he asks. “A sense of being unable to judge what was true and what was false? Most of people who have been stung and lived to tell about it report something of the kind.”_  
  
 _Yes. Katniss, shimmering and confused. Him yelling for her to run. Never being completely sure if she heard him. If she was even there._  
  
 _“Recall is made more difficult because memories can be changed.” Beetee taps his forehead. “Brought to the forefront of your mind, altered, and saved again in the revised form. Now imagine that I ask you to remember something – either with a verbal suggestion or by making you watch a tape of the event – and while that experience is refreshed, I give you a dose of tracker jacker venom. Not enough to induce a three-day long blackout. Just enough to infuse the memory with fear and doubt. And that’s what your brain puts in long-term storage.”_  
  
 _He feels sick._  
  
 _“Is that what they’ve done to Katniss?” Prim asks. “Taken her memories of Peeta and distorted them so they’re scary?”_  
  
 _Beetee nods. “So scary that she’d see him as life-threatening. That she might try to kill him. Yes, that’s our current theory.”_  
  
 _“No. That’s impossible,” Prim says. “He’s . . . He’s Peeta.”_  
  
 _It doesn’t seem possible. To make Katniss forget how much he loves her. “You’ve never been stung by a tracker jacker,” Peeta answers, even though he’s not sure he’s technically supposed to be allowed to speak. “And with her survival instinct . . .”_  
  
 _“But you can reverse it, right?” Prim asks, undeterred._  
  
 _“Um . . . very little data on that,” says Plutarch. “None, really. If hijacking rehabilitation has been attempted before, we have no access to those records.”_  
  
 _“Well, you’re going to try, aren’t you?” Prim persists. He reaches over and covers her hand with his. “You’re not just going to lock her up in some padded room and leave her to suffer?”_  
  
 _“Of course, we’ll try, Prim,” Beetee says. “It’s just, we don’t know to what_ _degree we’ll succeed. If any. My guess is that fearful events are the hardest to root out. They’re the ones we remember the best, after all.”_

* * *

  
“Something tells me you wouldn’t take my advice even if I was willing to give it,” Haymitch says, and his voice is almost uncharacteristically soft. “I’m supposed to talk you down, or whatever. Word around here is that you don’t particularly like the good doctor.”  
  
“You’re not the one I want to see,” she says, lifting her chin. Haymitch snorts.  
  
“Didn’t think I was, Sweetheart. But believe it or not, after your little stunt, they’re not exactly eager to send any more of your loved ones in here.”  
  
Peeta knows that sugarcoating things won’t do her any favors, but he’s still frustrated with Haymitch for speaking to her this way. Haymitch glances over at the mirror, as if sensing this, and Katniss looks furious when she follows his gaze.  
  
“He’s watching, isn’t he?” she asks.  
  
“Just you and me,” he answers, even though it’s a lie. Peeta thinks that Katniss can tell, too. But what option does she have? Especially when she’s as trapped as she is?  
  
“What do I have to do to see her?” Katniss finally asks, her voice quiet. Prim is watching eagerly, and Peeta is happy for her. No matter how jealous he feels.  
  
  
  
It feels like more of a violation than usual to hole up in the room and watch. Probably because of Katniss’ reaction when Prim is the one to come through the doors.  
  
“Hey,” she says, her voice gentle. “What are you doing here? Couldn’t they find something better for you to do than to babysit me?”  
  
“It’s not babysitting,” Prim says, sitting down beside her bed. Katniss is restrained, but she manages to stretch her hand out enough to hold Prim’s. It’s hard to reconcile this version of her with the one that tried to kill him just a couple of weeks ago. “I wanted to see you.”  
  
“I heard you’re training to be a doctor,” Katniss says.  
  
“Yeah. I’m working with Mom. They said I’ve got a lot of potential.”  
  
“You’ve always been such a good healer, I can’t say it surprises me.”  
  
They talk about this for a little bit. It’s Katniss gushing over Prim, for the most part. Until, finally . . . “How is everyone else?”  
  
“They’re doing well,” Prim says. “All glad you’re back. Um, Gale is working on weapons.”  
  
“And how is that going?”  
  
“He really likes it. Especially now,” Prim answers with a sad smile. “Oh! And Finnick and Annie are getting married. It’s going to be a propo. And . . .” she glances around, her voice dropping a little bit lower. “Peeta is making the cake for it. I’ve talked to him and –”  
  
Something shifts, just at the mention of his name. Prim tries to pull her hand away, but Katniss is gripping her wrist, now, leaning forward. “You’ve talked to him? What are you – I don’t – I don’t want you anywhere near him!”  
  
“Katniss,”  
  
“Twelve burned down, Prim. Because of him. Because of Peeta.”  
  
“It wasn’t his fault,” Prim says.  
  
“Did he tell you that?” Katniss hisses.  
  
“He didn’t have to. I was –”  
  
“Because he’s lying! He’s a liar! You can’t believe anything he says! He's some kind of a mutt the Capitol created to use against the rest of us!” Katniss is nearly shouting, now. Eyes taking on a wild, clouded quality. Prim looks at the window, eyes wide, and Plutarch announces that they need to get her out of these.  
  
“I did. I trusted him and he tried to kill me. Tried to kill my friends. My family. Don’t even go near him!” The door opens, and she stops her screaming when she sees the nurses moving towards her. They’ve got syringes in hand, and her hands fly up instantly. She whispers Prim’s name, as if she’s only just noticed the grip she had on her, but it’s too late. Prim is backing away.  
  
And she’s afraid. Either of the nurses, or the medicine they’re going to give her. He doesn’t exactly blame her for being afraid of syringes. Haymitch and Plutarch lead him out of the room, because she’s still speaking and clearly he shouldn’t hear what it is that she’s saying. Not when it’s making him feel this numb.  
  
“We can send you away,” Plutarch offers. “The fighting is almost over in all of the Districts but Two, but it’s a tough nut to crack. If you need to get out . . .”  
  
“No.”  
  
“No?” Haymitch repeats. “Told you he wouldn’t go for it.”  
  
“I need to talk to her,” he demands. And it’s clear that Plutarch doesn’t think this is an option. “I can wait. But if you want me to be the Mockingjay, I have to talk to her.”


End file.
